Harry's Lunch

(Thanksgiving charity: Oh, that it were year-round and gifted to the “invisible” ones.)

image by cathy kennedy

The old man placed his orderHis wait in line was longAnd shaded specsBetrayed the factHis vision almost gone.But smile he didAs one young kidJust chattered on and on.Each Thursday noonHe took a cabAnd left his lonely roomTo join the crowdAlive and loudAnd tastes of life consume.His cooking was the meagrestFive years the wife was gone.But here the swirlAnd one young girlGave strength to carry on.She called him by his first nameHer voice held honest careShe knew on cue “his usual”She helped him to his chair.She sounded much like “Anna”In courting days long goneAnd years and tears just vanishedAnd “Harry” shuffled on.